


Futile Devices

by iilwas



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: AU (sort of), Angst, M/M, Repressed Feelings, Sad, Slow Burn, uwu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:27:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iilwas/pseuds/iilwas
Summary: Jay is daring Mike to do whatever Mike intends to do. Jay needs to know where Mike wants to push this, but he’s certain it will hurt him.There’s something in Mike’s eyes that makes Jay sad, and he’s ready to find out what it is.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. Are You Trying to Tell Me Something With Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fellas! I have the whole outline for this story written, I just gotta find time to write the chapters. I'm hoping I'll update weekly!

The parties at Rich’s house were always strange, contradictory events. Rich was sober, and yet every party Jay had been to at Rich’s house had gotten Jay dangerously wasted. Of course, Rich never intended his parties to get out of hand (in fact, Rich didn’t intend parties at all—Mike pushed him into hosting). But Rich was always a good sport in his consistently-complaining way, and this particular night, Jay knew he had pushed himself too far. 

Jay gripped the cloth-covered table in Rich’s living room, feeling his head spin. He could hear Rich’s nasal laugh, but it felt like it was coming through a tunnel from a thousand miles away. Jay’s left hand, gripping a beer, slowly lowered to the table and let the beer stand there on its own. Officially no more drinking tonight, Jay thought. A heavy hand landed on Jay’s shoulder, and he looked up into the face of his best friend. Mike hovered over him, a grin spreading on his face, his complexion looking particularly olive in the half-light. 

“Hey, man.”

Mike’s voice seemed to echo and boom around Jay.

“You look like you’re gonna hurl.” 

Jay blinked his eyes, wondering if he was blinking too slowly. Then he considered how long he had been wondering about the speed of his blink. Then he was thinking how long he had been standing there, staring up at Mike.

“Oh,” Jay said, rushing to get it out so there wasn’t as much of a delay in his speech. Swimmingly, he saw Mike’s eyebrows scrunch as he pulled back, a sort of incredulous laughing expression on his face.

“Man, what did you do? Did you smoke?”

Jay nodded. He heard Mike’s laughter bounce off his brain. Mike’s hand patted Jay on the shoulder a couple times, which made Jay feel like he was going to fall over. 

“You’re such a lightweight,” Mike said.

“No I’m not, you just say that to make fun of my height. I’ve had like, double what you’ve had so far,” Jay said, feeling silly and a little bit like a child. Mike raised his eyebrows at him, and looked away, listening to something Rich was saying to him. The sounds of their other friends filled Jay’s ears as he waited for Mike to say something to him. After a while it seemed like Mike was fully having a conversation with Rich, and was not going to respond to Jay, so Jay turned his head around and tried to locate the couch. He walked over carefully, and sat down, meeting the couch a little later than he thought he would, and feeling his teeth chatter together at the impact. Next to him, a friend was sipping a beer and looking at his phone. Jay turned his head over to decipher who this was. 

“Josh,” Jay said, determined. Josh raised his eyebrows at Jay.

“Yes?” he said. Jay nodded, placated. Josh laughed.

“Dude, I hope you’re not planning on driving home tonight. You look like you’re gonna be high for a week,” Josh said, adjusting his glasses. Jay waved his hand at him dismissively. Then a wave of cold anxiety and regret passed over him. How was he going to get home? Rich might be willing to let him stay, but Jay hated staying over here, feeling like he was trespassing on Rich and Rich’s fiancee’s territory. Jay gripped the couch a little. Josh stood up, and looked down at Jay.

“Seriously, Jay, find someone sober to take you home.”

Jay nodded solemnly as Josh walked away. The sounds of the party ebbed and flowed. At this point, no new people were showing up, and some friends were leaving in small groups to carpool home. Over the table filled with snacks and beer, Jay could see a couple more friends laughing and telling stories. Jay’s heart filled as he looked at one friend, a shorter woman with red hair. This was Jessi, one of Jay’s closest friends. She found his eyes from across the room and smiled at him, and Jay knew she could tell he had gotten too high. She glanced back at whoever was talking to her, then looked at Jay again. She held up a questioning thumbs-up, to ask if Jay was okay. He smiled and nodded at her, feeling a little stupid. She laughed. 

The couch bent a little as someone heavy sat down next to Jay. Just by the type of exhale made when settling into the seat, Jay knew it was Mike. He turned over to see Mike resting his head on the back of the couch with his eyes closed. 

“I gotta get home soon,” Mike said, his voice tired and happy. Jay smiled at him. 

“Oh!” Jay said. “Can you take me home?” Mike groaned a little and rolled his head on the back of the couch.

“Nah, I can’t drive right now. You can come to my place though,” Mike said. Jay didn’t object, but he was curious if Mike meant he could spend the night. Jay had never spent the night at Mike’s place, other than that one time when they still worked together at the VCR repair shop and had gotten hammered, but several of their friends had ended up crashing at Mike’s that night, so it was nothing special. Jay had slept on the floor between Josh and their friend Jack, and it was maybe one of the worst nights of sleep he’d ever gotten. He winced at the memory, but figured if he stayed at Mike’s tonight, he would probably be on a couch. 

Mike huffed as he sat up with his hands on his knees, and pushed himself up to standing. Jay took this as a cue to leave, and stood up too, feeling relieved that he felt slightly less nauseous now. They said their goodbyes to Rich, and thanked him for letting them trash his place once again. Rich pretended to be mad, but his house was actually always left relatively neat and tidy after these parties. Jay went to hug Jessi goodbye, and she pulled him close.

“You leaving with Mike?” she asked. She peered into Jay’s eyes. There was always a friendly intimacy with Jessi that Jay found deeply comforting. 

“Yeah, we’ll walk to his place,” Jay said. Jessi gave him a look he couldn’t quite understand, with a smile but a sharp eye.

“Have a good time,” she said, and squeezed Jay’s arms before letting go. Mike was holding open Rich’s screen door, so Jay hurried out into the cold, dark air. Mike followed Jay down the cement steps, and they walked together in the darkness, shivering slightly, feeling more sober in the cold. Mike lived a couple blocks away from Rich’s house, in a small but cozy apartment. The bitter Wisconsin wind blew through their jackets, but they made it up the stairs and through Mike’s front door. As they settled into the heat, taking off their shoes and coats, they both began to feel the effects of their intoxication more. Jay plopped onto the couch, wishing he was already asleep.

“Can I stay the night?” he asked, hearing how exhausted his voice sounded. Mike rummaged around in a closet by the bathroom.

“What? Of course, that’s why you’re here,” Mike said, his voice somewhat muffled. Jay sighed in relief, and laid down on the couch, facing out towards Mike’s small, dim living room. There was a coffee table with a couple of coasters on it and a bottle cap or two, and some shelves full of DVDs. The TV sat on a small, slightly beaten-up TV table. Jay breathed in big, filling his lungs. He could smell something comforting in the couch, like dust and something familiar. It kinda smelled like Mike, he thought, and smiled to himself because it was such a stupid thing to be thinking about. He folded his arms over his chest and wondered if Mike would turn the light off when he went to bed. A shadow passed over him and Jay looked up to see Mike, unfolding a blanket. Something warm passed in Jay’s chest, like a swelling, growing thing. As Mike whipped the blanket out to get it straightened, and sailed it over Jay so that it slowly rested on his body, Jay felt a heat in him that both was and was not from the blanket. Gently, Jay gripped the top edge of the blanket, pulling it up slightly to cover his mouth. He felt his warm air gather in the fabric. Mike was still leaning over him, and reached out two hands to smooth the blanket down, pressing softly but firmly over Jay’s shoulders and legs. 

It had been a long time since Jay let himself gaze at Mike’s face like this. He studied the perpetual crease between Mike’s brows, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Jay let himself memorize the slight cleft of Mike’s chin, the greying stubble, the flat cupid’s bow, the darkness of his eyes. Mike smoothed over Jay’s shoulder one final time, and it felt almost as though Mike were soothing him, touching him merely for comfort and not to kindly adjust his blanket for him. Mike’s eyes flickered down to Jay, and there was a moment of deep connection, of intimacy. An expression flashed on Mike’s face, the eyebrows coming together just barely, his eyes shining with something unreadable. A swelling warmth filled Jay’s chest, and was immediately replaced with something cold, lonely, and sad. Mike’s eyes flickered down to his again. Mike’s expression was specific, but hard to understand. Jay felt a physical sensation in his body he could not describe, but it made him feel incredibly alone. Mike sniffed dryly and walked to his bedroom, shutting the light off on his way.


	2. Nothing But A Selfish Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay has a tough day. Then it gets tougher.

Jay walked himself back to Rich’s house and found his car under the big maple tree. He drove himself home, feeling his head pound a little in the early morning light. He wasn’t too hungover, just enough to be annoying. 

When he had woken up at Mike’s apartment, he had tucked himself closer under the blanket, warding off the cold. He could hear Mike’s snores faintly from the other room. Jay had looked down at his phone and cursed when he saw he only had thirty minutes before he needed to clock in to work. These days, Jay was working freelance as an editor. He mostly got jobs for commercials, which was boring but paid well. When he arrived home, he trudged up the stairs to his apartment and changed, sitting down at his desk just in time to get his load of work done before the due date. His cat, a flurry black rescue, clawed at the door, missing him. The commercial he was working on was for migraine medication, and the work was a little more difficult than Jay had anticipated. He made a couple mistakes as he worked, moving the wrong clips around and trimming them too short. Around 2 p.m. he finished the work, and sent the file off to his client just in time. As Jay left his office, his cat circled around his feet, following him.

“Hey, sweet girl, you gotta give me space,” he said to her, picking up his feet carefully as to not step on her. He reached into his cabinet to get himself a plate so he could make a late lunch, and the plate slipped out of his hand. As he flung his hand out to catch it, it hit the floor, cracking into three pieces. There was a yelp from behind him, and he lifted his foot, seeing his cat running away, tail bushed. 

“Shit,” he said.

He picked up the broken plate and threw it in the trash, and went looking for his cat, shaking a treat bag. Leaning down on his elbows, he saw her sitting under the couch with big eyes. He shook the treat bag at her.

“So sorry, I told you not to get under my feet. Did I step on you?” he said.

He took a treat out of the bag and slid it under the couch towards her. She sniffed it suspiciously. He reached out a hand to pet the top of her head and she made a noise in the back of her throat. Oh shit, he thought. 

“You okay?” he asked.

He reached his arm under the couch and took a hold of her from around the ribcage, pulling her out. Pushing her fur this way and that, he noticed a small cut on her forehead. He breathed out from between his teeth angrily, and gently touched her back. He pulled out his phone to check if the vet was open, and seeing that they were, he shuffled his cat into her carrier bag and took her down to his car. Traffic was starting to get busy as the day reached rush hour, and Jay cursed and gripped the steering wheel, glancing down at his cat. She cowered in the corner of the bag. Pulling into the parking lot of the vet, he took her carefully out and brought her in to the waiting room. 

“Hey, uh, I dropped a plate and I think it hit my cat’s head. Can someone check her out?” he said to the receptionist. She made a sad face at him, and examined his cat through the bag.

“I’m so sorry to hear that! Of course, Ms. Lockhart will be right with you.” 

After signing forms and waiting for a bit, he handed his cat off to the vet. The veterinarian was a small woman in a white doctor’s coat and leggings covered in animal hair. She smiled at Jay and told him she would be right back with his cat. He sat in the waiting room, feeling irritably hungry and guilty about hurting his cat. A woman a couple seats over sat with a gigantic greyhound, petting his head passively. A couple cars honked outside. Finally, Ms. Lockhart came back. She handed his cat back to him, in the carrier, and put her hands in her coat pockets. 

“Now, don’t be scared, but I did give her a couple stitches. She’s completely fine, no concussion, she just got a little scraped up. The stitches should dissolve in about a week. Try to keep her from pawing at them—if you have any issues, come back and we’ll give her a cone to wear.” 

Jay nodded at her and sighed. Ms. Lockhart smiled kindly.

“Seriously, she’s fine. No need to worry. Let me know if you need anything,” she said, and she walked back to her office. Jay reached his hand into the carrier bag carefully, and gave his cat some scritches under the chin. He took her back into his car and drove home. Back home, he laid down on his couch for a while, doing nothing, just trying to de-stress. His head was still hurting a little from being hungover, and he really should drink some water. He kept glancing over at his cat, who was sitting in her favorite spot on the carpet by the TV. After a while, he thought he heard her purr. He smiled at her, and she locked eyes with him, blinking slowly. Checking his phone, he realized it was almost 5 p.m. and he still hadn’t had lunch. He tried to think back to this morning, and was unsure if he had had breakfast either. Checking his cupboards, he decided he was tired and irritable enough to just cook some pasta and use sauce from a jar. It wasn’t his favorite meal, but it was easy and filling. When his cat came to nuzzle his leg, he dropped a dry piece of pasta on the floor for her. She scattered around the room chasing after it, and he laughed a little at her. When his pasta was finished, he sat down on his couch, ready to have a nice, relaxing night watching the first episode of The Haunting of Bly Manor. Letting his pasta cool a bit, he pulled up Netflix on his TV. The loading circle spun. He picked up his bowl of dinner, ready to click right onto his show and start eating. The Netflix circle continued spinning. 

“Fuck,” he said.

He clicked back to the home page, and back to Netflix with no luck. He tried again. He turned his TV off and back on and tried again. Rolling his eyes, he stood up and grabbed a DVD off his shelf and put it in, plopping back down on the couch. He was really interested in the new Haunting show, but apparently that just wasn’t going to work. He pushed his fork forcefully into the pasta and took a bite. The pasta had gotten a little cold. 

As the sky grew black, he shut off his TV, put a scoop of cat food in the small porcelain bowl by the couch, and got in the shower. The heat of the water steamed in the cold air. It seemed no matter how much he turned up his heat this time of year, his apartment always got cold in the evenings. When he got out of the shower, the blast of cold air made him shiver as he dressed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. After shaking his hair semi-dry, he pulled a sweatshirt over his shirt and crawled into bed. His exhaustion pooled around him as he laid down. His cat jumped up onto the corner of his bed and curled up. He shivered a little, and pulled the blanket up. A strong wind rattled his window a bit, and a bus honked repeatedly outside. He got up and pulled his curtains closed, as if that would fix something. Laying back down in bed, he pulled the blankets over his head and tucked his icy hands between his knees to warm them up. He felt uncomfortably cold, but after a while of tossing and turning, he felt himself relax. Just as his eyes started to drift into sleep and his breath slowed down, a loud buzzing jerked his head up off the pillow. On the bedside table, his phone was glowing face-down. He picked it up and squinted at the bright light. When he realized the caller was Mike, he slid the call open and leaned on his elbow.

“Mike?” he said, hearing how stuffy his voice sounded.

“Jay? Are you asleep?” said the voice from the other line. Jay sniffed a little.

“Not anymore. What’s up?” he said.

“Shit, man, sorry. You’re usually up around this time,” Mike said. Feeling annoyed, Jay rolled his eyes in the darkness.

“Yeah, well, I had kind of a shitty day today. So. I was trying to sleep,” he said. There was a pause.

“I- is it okay if I come over? I’m kinda freaking out about something. I don’t know, I just feel like I need to talk to you,” Mike said. His voice was steady, but slightly nervous sounding. Jay took a deep breath and sat up fully, resigning himself to being awake.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll unlock the door, come in when you’re here.” Tucking his hands under his armpits, Jay shuffled to his front door and unlocked it, then got out some of the pasta leftovers and heated them up in the microwave. He sat on the couch, and slowly ate, wondering if Mike was coming over from his apartment or from a bar, or somewhere else. After Jay had finished most of his late-night meal, he heard a gentle knock on the door. He didn’t feel like raising his voice to tell Mike to come in, so he just sat there and waited. There was a slight creak as the door opened.

“Jay?” Mike’s voice softly called. 

“In here,” Jay said. Only one light was on, the lamp in the corner, so Mike emerged from the darkness of the hallway, blinking his eyes. 

“Oh, shit,” he said as he squinted over at Jay. “You really were asleep.” Jay said nothing in response, but shifted over on the couch to show Mike there was room for him to sit. Mike shuffled over, looking a little timid. He sat down on the couch next to Jay and rested his elbows on his knees. Jay ate the last of his pasta and set the bowl on the low table in front of them. He pressed his back on the arm of the couch and faced Mike, tucking his knees to his chest. 

“You okay?” Jay asked. Mike tilted his head to one side and nodded. Jay examined Mike, trying to find out what was wrong. This was not the first time Mike had called to ask if he could come over impromptu, but usually Mike was drunk and was walking distance from Jay’s apartment. Mike was definitely not drunk, but something seemed serious. The Green Bay Packers sweatshirt Mike was wearing was old, pilled, and had a couple loose threads. Jay had always loved this sweatshirt. Looking at it now, something clawed at Jay’s heart and he tiled his head back, trying to stop the strange sadness building in him. This type of sadness always started with that feeling of seeing a friend after a long separation, or sitting down after an exhausting day, but it seemed to turn sour every time. It was a blooming sadness. 

“Jay, I just needed to say that I really care about you,” Mike said, his voice breaking the moment of quiet. Jay nodded at him, waiting for more. Mike looked at him with dark eyes shining in the lamp light, his face serious. Jay blinked. 

“Is that it?” Jay asked. Mike opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and opened it again.

“I mean, I don’t know how to say this, Jay. You know I care about you. I mean, we’ve been friends for forever. Honestly sometimes, right when I wake up, I think we still work at the VCR repair shop together, and when I realize we don’t, and we don’t get to see each other every day, I get sad,” Mike said. Jay narrowed his eyes imperceptibly. 

“I mean,” Mike continued, fidgeting with the corner of the table in front of him. “I don’t know how to even say this. Help me out?”

“With- with what? Did you just come here to say you’re glad we’re friends?” Jay said. He felt a spike of anger in him and willed it to go away. For a split second, Mike’s face looked panicked. He wiped over his chin, scraping at the sharp stubble. 

“Well, sort of, but not really. Like, it’s more than that. How do I even—“ Mike stopped when Jay turned away from him.

“Seriously?” Jay said, feeling his anger pushing up, unable to stop it. “You fucking woke me up for this? I had a shit day, Mike. I want to sleep. I know we’re friends, you don’t need to come over here and make an announcement every time it occurs to you.” Mike balled his fists on his knees.

“You’re not listening to me,” Mike said.

“Yeah, ‘cause this doesn’t really matter right now and I want to sleep,” Jay said. He regretted his tone, but Mike was getting on his nerves. Mike inhaled, and put the palms on his hands on the couch, preparing to stand.

“You’re fucking selfish, Jay,” he said. Jay felt a shock of pain, as if he had no air. Mike lifted himself off the couch and rounded the corner to the hallway. Jay lifted his hands in confusion, though he knew Mike couldn’t see. He flinched as the door slammed. Alone again, Jay sank deeper into the couch. He covered his face with his hands and exhaled slowly.


	3. Mesmerized and Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse, and then, incrementally, worse again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters for today guys! I wanted this update to be a long one. Enjoy, and don't worry--our Midwestern alcoholic men won't be miserable forever (probably).

Jay rolled onto his back, staring at his ceiling. The whiteness fizzled out at the corners of his vision like static. There was no overhead light, leaving the ceiling a blank white square. No water stains, no dents, no smudges of paint. Jay blinked, wondering if the whiteness would remain when his eyes were closed, like when you close your eyes in a pitch dark room. A truck honked from the street. Jay sighed, which settled a tight pain in his chest. Turning over, he reached for his phone. A hot wave passed over his face, and his hand clenched around his phone. There was a text from Mike from last night that Jay had missed, before Mike had let himself in.

_ I’m here, can I come in? _

It said it was sent at midnight last night, probably right when Mike had arrived at Jay’s apartment. Jay rolled back and stared at the ceiling again. In his head he could hear himself, how his angry tone had spilled over onto Mike. It made him sick to re-hear it, but he couldn’t get the conversation out of his head. He knew he had really hurt Mike, but there were so many parts that baffled him. Why was Mike completely sober, and so serious? Jay wondered if something had happened with Mike’s family that he hadn’t brought up for whatever reason. The lamplight shining in Mike’s eyes flashed in Jay’s head, and the hard look, the focused brows, the fidgeting hands. _ You’re not listening to me.  _ Jay huffed and weighed his arm over his face. What the fuck did Mike mean? A tingling feeling rose in Jay, almost like he was going to vomit. He clenched his jaw and ripped the blankets off, trying to steel himself to get out of bed and wash up for the day.  _Yeah, ‘cause this doesn’t really matter right now._ Jay grimaced at his memory of his words. Not his best moment. He had really meant it too, which bothered him. Last night, nothing Mike was saying mattered to him at all. Usually, even if he was feeling irritable, he would have lightly blushed at Mike being such a vocal friend. In fact, it usually embarrassed him. Jay had really been out of sorts last night, and he regretted his tone, and his attitude, and really everything about how he had acted. 

The work day was painful and slow. Jay checked on his cat several times, who was doing fine. A bit of emailing around and some paperwork, and he finished early for the day. He usually didn’t go out so often, but Josh had invited him to the bar for a beer, and Jay figured he needed it. As the sun set, Jay huffed down the street in his jacket. His breath made soft, transparent clouds trailing after him like ghosts. As he opened the heavy wood door of the bar, he caught Josh’s eye, who was sitting at a beaten-up booth against the wall. Josh raised his eyebrows, sending Jay a signal that he had something dramatic or engaging to share. Jay quickly got his beer ordered, and walked with long strides over to Josh, feeling good to get his mind off things and chat with a friend. Josh gave him an intense look as Jay crossed over to him and slid into the booth. 

“How’s it going?” Jay asked. Josh looked down at his beer with a tight expression, fiddling with the sticker. Jay blinked at him for a second. Josh sighed and looked up at Jay.

“Hey, man.”

“You… You good?” Jay asked.

“Me? Oh, yeah. Look, man, I talked to Mike last night,” Josh said. Jay froze.

“Oh yeah? Last night, when?” he asked. Josh looked up over the rim of his glasses at Jay. Jay pressed his lips together and nodded, looking off across the bar. 

“Anyway,” Josh said. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but he was pretty upset with you. I don’t know if you guys fought, or what, but whatever happened, it sounded pretty bad.” Jay groaned and rested his head on the table. He couldn’t believe Mike had talked to Josh about it. Or, that Mike had been upset enough to speak to a friend about it. Or, so many things. So many confusing pieces of some strange puzzle. 

“I don’t really know what happened,” Jay said, his voice muffled against the table. A friendly hand rested on his shoulder, but Jay didn’t look up.

“Look, guy, it’ll be okay,” Josh said, “Mike’s tough.”

“I just, I think I was really unkind to him. I don’t know, I was really irritated. It wasn’t his fault,” Jay said. He leaned back up, and covered his face with his hands so that he wouldn’t have to face Josh’s kind and honest look. After a moment, he lowered his hands. Josh sipped from his beer in contemplation. 

“I’m sure you two can work it out.” Josh smiled at Jay, and Jay felt a tiny bit better. They sat together for a while more, chatting and catching up. About twenty minutes later, Josh had convinced Jay to send a quick text to Mike just to make sure he takes the first step in smoothing things over. As Josh left to use the restroom, Jay pulled out his phone and worked on a text to Mike. 

_ Just checking on you. Sorry about my shitty attitude last night.  _

He stared at the text, and sent it before he could think himself out of sending it. Josh came back, and they talked a little more before going their separate ways. The walk home was cold and dark, but Jay tried to settle into the wind, hoping the weirdness with Mike would be resolved soon. He got home, changed, and watched a movie. He ate dinner. He showered and got into bed. There was no reply from Mike. They didn’t text each other that often, so it wasn’t a big deal, but something gnawing grew inside Jay. He laid down in bed and tried not to think about it. 

More than a week passed with no answer. Jay had hovered his fingers over his keypad multiple times, trying to formulate something to say, but never ended up sending anything else. He worked and ran errands and deep-cleaned his kitchen. While squatting half-deep in his oven, Jay decided there could be no more stalling or waiting around. He sat back on his heels, dropping the wet sponge on the open door of the oven and wiping his hands on his sweatpants. 

_ If you need to be mean to get back at me, I’m here for it _

He hesitated, hoping the slightly joking, slightly serious tone would come through correctly. Tilting his head side to side in nervous contemplation, he hit send. He reached down to set his phone on the floor so he could continue working on the oven, and froze. He blinked down at his phone. Three grey dots blinked back at him as Mike typed a response. The dots disappeared, and reappeared. 

_ That would be fucking great actually _

Jay leaned back a little. He could feel his eyebrows scrunch. Seriously? he thought. Maybe he was overthinking, but Mike’s tone did not have the same half-joking, half-serious tone that Jay’s text had. 

_ So you’re saying I was mean, and you werent at all? _

Jay sent that text without thinking; his fingers flew over the letters without asking his head permission. His phone buzzed immediately. 

_ what? _

_ I told you, you woke me up for no reason. I was exhausted _

Jay inhaled sharply, and put his phone down. He didn’t know why his anger fired up so suddenly, and why he was taking it out on Mike. Mike really hadn’t done anything wrong that night, just maybe acted a bit strange. His jaw clenched. With every moment, his anger became more defensive. His phone buzzed.

_ Seriously can’t tell if you’re stupid or you don’t give a shit about me _

_ don’t call me stupid _

It was ridiculous to feel hurt by something like that, but Jay squeezed out the dirty sponge and threw it across the floor. He really felt wounded by the possibility that Mike thought something negative about him. 

_ That’s the thing you have an issue with? _

Jay glanced down at the message from Mike. It stung. He felt a spiraling sensation.  _Mike thinks I’m stupid. Mike thinks I’m mean. Mike thinks I don’t give a shit about him._ It had been a long time since a friend made him feel so intensely. The last time he was this upset was during his most recent breakup. The thought made him queasy, he dreaded the idea of being that close to Mike, that a fight between them would feel like a breakup. He turned off the notifications on his phone and stood up, closing the oven. Leaning against his kitchen counter, he gripped the edge. With a furrowed brow, he considered if Mike was really a good friend after all. Maybe they were co-dependant, or one of those bad things that happen to friendships. He knew something was moving between them, and it hadn’t become concrete yet. If now was the time to separate himself from his friendship with Mike, that would have to be okay. They didn’t even work together anymore, there was nothing holding him to Mike other than a few parties between mutual friends. If Jay didn’t want Mike in his life anymore, he could make that happen. This realization hit him hard, and he let himself cry, hanging over the sink. His throat hurt and it was impossible to breathe evenly. He gulped for air and let the stinging tears roll off his nose and into the sink. He felt a little ridiculous, but after all, he was loosing his best friend.

* * *

Even though Josh’s continuous need to confront issues head-on was annoying, Jay really leaned on him for comfort and support. They were good friends, despite the looks Josh gave Jay over the top of his beer when they went to bars together. The couple weeks since the impromptu texting fight between him and Mike had been rough; Jay’s routine, typically slim, had narrowed down to a simple wake up, eat, work, eat, go to bed. Any night Josh invited him out for an hour or so of relaxed conversation made Jay feel immensely better. He knew he had to spend time with friends, or this whole Mike-thing was going to make him go insane. Of course, when Josh invited Jay over to a party at his apartment to celebrate finally changing jobs, Jay let himself believe Mike wouldn’t be there. 

Josh’s apartment was nice. Big enough for him and his girlfriend, and Josh’s insanely large collection of vinyl records. Over the doorway to his kitchen hung a banner that read “NO MORE LUNCH THIEVES”. One of Josh’s biggest problems with his previous job was someone stealing his lunch every day. He reported it to his boss, who apparently didn’t care. Jay gave Josh a quick hug as he was welcomed in to the party. Josh handed him a beer and explained what record he had put on, but Jay didn’t really care about the kind of music Josh liked, so he just smiled and nodded. Over the low hum of the party, Rich’s voice rung out clear.

“Jay!” he said. Jay smiled over at Rich, who was holding a can of soda and chatting with Jessi. Jay averted his gaze for a second, then squared his shoulders and walked over to Jessi. He felt bad for not speaking to her about anything that had happened between him and Mike. Technically Rich had known them the longest, but Jessi had always been Jay’s confidant, and he knew there was no hiding the fact that there was drama to spill. Her sharp eye missed nothing. Rich clinked glasses with Jay.

“Cheers to Josh having something to fucking eat,” Rich said, pointing to the banner. Jay laughed. 

“Yeah, that must have really sucked,” Jay said. Jessi leaned over to Jay.

“Do you know what his new job is?” she asked. 

“Uhh, yeah, I think he told me. It’s, uh-“ Jay stopped when two mutual friends of him and Josh appeared, smiling and slapping everyone on the back. 

“Hey guys!” Jay said, raising his beer. Everyone mingled and laughed and patted Josh’s shoulder. Jessi didn’t bring anything up, but the quiet look she kept giving Jay let him know she was waiting for him to bring it up first. As Josh sat down on his couch, he started telling horror stories from his previous job. Most of the party attendees crowded around him, sitting on the couch or standing around the coffee table and the record player. Jay and Jessi stood back from the group, hearing some of what Josh was saying, and some of it being covered by the laughter of their friends. After a moment, Jessi made a noise like she was gently clearing her throat. She gripped Jay’s arm, and he looked over at her.

“Hey,” she said. “There’s someone in the kitchen who probably wants to see you.”

For a moment, Jay racked his brain. Then realizing who she meant, he checked Jessi’s expression to make sure he was right. Her face was set, but gentle, and she was pretending to listen to Josh’s story. There was no missing that classic Jessi look—she was giving Jay privacy to do what he needed to do. This look had appeared a couple times under different circumstances, like when Jay had to call his mother and check up on her health status because of a recent diagnosis, and when Jay had gotten too high while out on a night walk of Milwaukee and had to relieve his bladder behind a bush while Jessi turned the other way. Although she was turned towards Josh and smiling at his story, Jay knew she could still see him, and he nodded at her. He gave her arm a little squeeze as he walked past her and into the kitchen. Even though he knew who was going to be there, his stomach dropped as he saw him. 

Mike was tucked into the kitchen table, carefully painting something onto a helmet. Jay shifted on his feet. He wasn’t sure if Mike didn’t know he was there, or if he was ignoring him. Jay slowly settled his hip onto the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Mike’s face was focused, and his breath was coming out audibly through his nose, just the way it did when he was really zoned in on something. Jay felt a lump of compassion in his throat, and swallowed it away, reminding himself that Mike was an asshole. As if by the soft sound Jay had made, Mike’s eyes darted up. There was a tense moment of silence as they locked eyes. 

“What are you painting?” Jay asked. His question felt stupid, pathetic. It didn’t have any of the anger from before, which made him feel like he probably looked weak in contrast. Mike rolled his eyes a little.

“What do you think? It’s for a movie,” Mike said. His question was rhetorical; he did not want to know what Jay thought. Jay nodded, still fighting between feeling angry and pathetic. It also hurt him a little that Mike was making a prop for a movie that Jay wasn’t part of. Until then, they had always made films together. The films were shitty and dumb, but fun to make. Most of the time, when they had worked together at the VCR repair shop, they would fill empty time by planning out their next movie. A tiredness overcame Jay. He always looked back on working at the VCR shop with fondness, even though the job sucked and paid worse. 

“What, are you just gonna fucking stare at me?” Mike said. Jay snapped himself out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Jay said. His voice came out quiet, and he cringed. It didn’t sound like he had meant it at all. In fact, it really sounded like the opposite. Mike glanced up from his work with an expression that made Jay’s heart hurt. It was like Mike had sensed the vulnerability, and had a moment of vulnerability himself. It was strange how their emotions charged each other. Jay wiped at the back of his neck and looked around the kitchen so that he wouldn’t look at Mike. He could feel Mike’s eyes on him. He wished he hadn’t finished his beer before coming in here, because if he walked to the fridge to get himself another, he would have to pass within inches of Mike. They were adults, it shouldn’t have mattered, and yet it did. Jay felt as though he couldn’t get closer than three feet from Mike, and if he did, he was afraid of what would happen. There was an electric, moving thing between them, even though Mike was huffing down at his paintbrush and Jay was staring at the ceiling light. Maybe if he looked at Mike, this tightness in his chest would loosen. Jay dared a glance down at Mike. There was a bit of white paint on Mike’s hands. Mike put down the paintbrush and wiped his hands on his pants. His eyes were focused and dark as he carefully picked at one edge of blue painter’s tape on the helmet. A deep breath blew out from his nose as he pulled one strip of tape off the helmet, leaving a perfectly clean white line. Mike pressed his lips together and then relaxed, and pulled off another strip of tape. After he pulled the last piece of tape off, he placed the helmet down on the table and straightened his back, pushing into the back of the chair. Jay blinked, and his eyes felt dry. Mike’s determination and focus, even when doing something dumb like painting a prop for a shitty movie, always entranced Jay. Mike was usually so silly, or callous, or off-hand, that seeing him really focus on something made Jay feel like he was watching something special, almost intimate. When Mike lifted his eyes and met Jay’s gaze, Jay knew it was too late to pretend to not be staring at him. Jay was about to square his shoulders and stare Mike down, to make it more of a power thing and less of a memorizing-this-intimate-moment thing, but the softness of Mike’s look made Jay feel like he needed to sit down. He leaned his shoulder on the wall, and tried to ignore how open he knew his expression looked. His heart swelled a little, uncomfortably. The grip of some ancient god squeezed Jay’s heart when Mike breathed out a tiny sigh and looked back down at his work. A thought appeared in Jay’s head that had been there before. Was Mike trying to communicate something with his eyes? What was he trying to say? For a moment, it made Jay want to lay down on the tile floor of the kitchen and die. 


	4. Saying It Out Loud is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold winter air, vinyl records, longing glances... the works.

The noise of the party ebbed and flowed in Jay’s ear. He hadn’t smoked anything, but he felt high. He wandered from corner to corner, taking a beer from a faceless friend and gripping onto it, not drinking. No one seemed to be talking to him, and his ears felt stuffed up with cotton. He sat down on the edge of a worn, plush brown chair by the couch. Previously, like anywhere from ten years ago to two months ago, Jay would have been an expert at suppressing the head-spinning feeling he got when he locked eyes with Mike. Now he just sat, perched, on the sagging brown chair and gripped his full bottle of room-temperature beer. It was like Mike was in 3D and no one else was. All these people at the party were just people, even Rich and Josh, even Jessi. But Mike was full of texture and scent and noise that felt realer than anything else. Jessi could tuck her hair behind her ear and Jay would feel nothing in particular, but the softest turn of the corner of Mike’s mouth felt like taking acid or spinning out on black ice. 

A couple years ago, Jay had been driving home from seeing his sister, who lived outside of Milwaukee. He was thirty minutes out, in the deepening blackness of the night, in the dead of Wisconsin winter. The road was pretty rural until it suddenly turned onto a major highway—it was a road Jay was very familiar with. He had about fifteen minutes until he reached the highway. The trees loomed out in the light of his headlights, revealing pitch, empty blackness behind them. The steering wheel remained completely still when the car started spinning. Even now Jay could still feel his throat close just like it had that night, when he saw the trees spinning around him. The patch of ice was large; there must have been some flooding earlier that day. His shoulders had snapped against the seatbelt, tightening against him to save his life. While his hands floated up off the wheel and his breath was pushed out of his lungs by the whiplash, he saw Mike’s face in his head. Every part of the accident had moved in slow motion until that moment. Mike’s face flashed in his head and everything was moving rapidly, the car skiddering across the pavement and slowing to a stop against the guard rails, facing the wrong direction. Jay had breathed at first, only breathed. Then he gripped the wheel with shaking hands and leaned his forehead down, feeling his shoulders shake involuntarily. At the time, it had frightened him that he was not crying for fear of the accident. He was crying for something deeper and more permanent, something that at the time he had no words for. 

Tonight, in the bright warmth of Josh’s apartment, Jay felt something unrelated to fear, beyond fear, something distant but no longer untouchable. The understanding was there, but far away as if at the end of a long tunnel. He took his first sip from his beer, knowing that some day he would see it clearly. 

Mike finally emerged from the kitchen and walked around to a couple people, quietly saying goodbye and sharing quick laughs and smiles. Jay stood up from the chair, trying to get out of Mike’s net so that Mike wouldn’t feel obligated to say goodbye to him. Jay shuffled over near the front door, trying to busy himself with Josh’s record collection. Most of Josh’s records were uninteresting, but there was a couple Oingo Boingo records that Jay pulled out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mike moving towards the door to leave. Mike paused and turned back. Quietly, with a gentle voice, he said,

“Hey, would you wanna go outside for a sec?” Mike stepped a foot closer, looking down at Jay with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. Jay glanced up at him, holding onto the record. 

“Uh, no thanks, I’m good. It’s gonna be cold out there,” he said, putting the record back and pulling another out. Mike’s eyes didn’t change but seemed to fill with an expression unreadable. He fiddled with his keys in his pocket, seeming to wait for a different answer. Jay looked intently down at the record so that he wouldn’t have to meet Mike’s increasingly intense expression. He heard Mike sniff dryly and turn away, opening and shutting the door quickly. The cold wind from the exposed cement staircase blew in, along with the subtle scent of Mike. Then it was gone, and Jay put the record back where he found it, letting out a breath that seemed to weigh his heart down harder and harder. 

It had gotten pretty late, and the party was dying down. Rich left, as well as a couple other friends, until it was just Jay, Josh and his girlfriend, Jessi, and a handful of mutual friends. Josh was in his kitchen with a friend named Eric, asking Eric about an issue he was having with his garbage disposal. Jay figured it was probably time to leave soon, so he sat down and waited for Josh to finish getting Eric’s advise on the sink. Jessi emerged from the bathroom and found her jacket, folding it over her arm. From across the room, she gazed at Jay, gripping her jacket with one hand. Jay looked back at her, meeting her eyes with a tiredness and ease that made him feel warm and lonely at the same time. She sighed a little and walked over, finding a seat across from Jay. She leaned her elbows on her knees and tucked her hair behind both ears, and then sat back into the chair. 

“You goin’ home soon?” she asked.

“Yeah, soon as Josh has a second,” he said. She nodded. 

“How’s work been?”

“A little shitty recently, I’ve been given a lot of bad footage, but the work’s steady,” he said. “And you?”

“I’ve managed to get a few gigs in between shifts so I’m doing good. We sold a bunch of tshirts at our last show, so that was pretty cool,” Jessi said. 

“Writing any new material?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, I have this new song, it’s about a breakup with this metaphor of loosing a sock in the wash. The guys said it was really good, so we’re finishing it up so we can play it at our next show.”

“That’s great!”

There was a pause. The garbage disposal whirred from the kitchen. Josh yelled out in victory, and high-fived Eric. Jessi stopped smiling and leaned forward, putting a hand on Jay’s knee. 

“Look, Jay. I’ve always thought about this, and I think it’s important to say it now. I think Mike might have feelings for you. I, uh. I think he has for a while.” Jessi’s face was hard and serious. When Jay didn’t respond, she gave his knee a squeeze and leaned back a little, with a small and sad smile. Jay could feel his hands resting on the chair, his feet on the ground. It felt as though he had just woken up from anesthesia—things moved a little too slowly, his body felt weighed down. He reminded himself to inhale, and he looked around the room for something unspecified. Something clawed from inside him, searching. 

“Are- are you surprised?” Jessi asked, her voice quiet. 

“No.” Jay wasn’t sure how he knew this was the answer, but he did. The issue wasn’t exactly that Jessi thought Mike had feelings for him, or that fact that he knew she was right. Something about the way it made him feel was the issue. It wasn’t nonchalant nothing, it wasn’t surprise, it even wasn’t “no homo” disgust, which would be out of character. Anything would be better than this clawing, needy feeling in his chest. Empty, and reaching out for something to hold. He felt he might vomit when he considered that Mike was the thing he wanted to hold. He tried to look put together, so he straightened up and took a deep breath. Jessi looked at him hard, analyzing, then turned around to Josh.

“Hey man! Me and Jay are headed out. Congrats on the new job!” Josh peeked his head out from the kitchen.

“Oh! Thanks so much guys, have safe travels home,” Josh said. Jessi waved at him and stood up. She waited for Jay to stand too, which he did, somewhat reluctantly. Jessi opened Josh’s door and a cold blast of night air hit them. Jay pulled his jacket around tighter and zipped it up. They walked down the cement stairs together, listening to the cold echo of their shoes on the steps. Down on the ground level, a stray cat scurried under a bush. Jay shuffled at the base of the stairs with his hands in his pockets.

“So am I driving you home?” he asked. 

“Yeah, if you can,” she said.

“Sure. Did you take the bus here?”

“Nah, Carly drove me.” Jay started walking to his car, and Jessi followed. He looked back at her and thought for a second.

“Wait,” he said. “Carly left like, two hours ago. Did you… were you planning on telling me, and on riding back with me right after, so you could grill me?” Jessi grinned at him.

“Plan and attack, man, plan and attack,” she said with a hint of laughter. Jay couldn’t help but smile.

“And what, if something in your master plan went wrong, you just wouldn’t have a ride home?” he asked. She shook her head at him, and her hair came loose from behind her ear. 

“Nah, I would’ve gone home with Rich or something,” she said. He laughed and waited for her to catch up to his faster stride. They walked together down the street to Jay’s parked car and jumped in, rubbing their hands together and shivering. Jay started his car and turned up the heat, setting the air on blast. Jessi cursed and laughed, sticking her hands under her legs to warm them up. Jay turned his radio up, which was playing a generic Christmas song. Jessi made a face.

“Eghh, Christmas already?”

“If your plan and attack was to get a ride home from me, you don’t get to bash on the festive music,” Jay said, pulling out of his parallel parking job. 

“You hate this stuff!” Jessi said, throwing her hands into the air. Jay shrugged and began to laugh. Jessi’s laughter filled the car, until Jay was straining to see the road, blinking away tears and clutching his ribs. Jessi smacked at her knees, laughing so hard she had become silent. Jay covered his mouth and snorted, trying to stop laughing so he could focus on driving. Jessi leaned her head on the window and slowly calmed down, breathing big breaths with an occasional chuckle. The car grew quiet, and the song changed to something that sounded like Duran Duran. Jay sniffed and gripped the wheel harder. He could feel Jessi looking at him. 

“How do you feel about it?” she asked. “About Mike?” Jay sighed and slowed down for a stop light. He chewed his lip and tapped on the steering wheel.

“I, uh. I don’t know. It’s kind of startling,” he said. 

“Do you feel… good? Bad?” she asked, clearly looking for some specific answer.

“Well, uh. I mean, it’s weird,” he said. He could feel hackles start to raise, something in him was defensive. An invisible god pulled a gate around his heart and locked it. 

“Actually, it’s pretty fucking messed up,” he said. “Like, he’s my best friend. He doesn’t need to make this weird.” Jessi stared at him, clearly not expecting this response. Jay felt a little guilty, but there seemed to be no other way he could approach this topic. 

“Uh-huh. And he’s making this weird how? By getting into a fight with you?” she said. Jay looked over at her and tightened his grip on the wheel. He looked back at the road. 

“What? No, the fight was, well it was my fault first of all. And it totally wasn’t about Mike being in love with me or anything like that.”

“Yeah?” Jessi’s voice was quiet in that dangerous way. “So what was the fight about? I haven’t really heard any details.” Jay swallowed, he could feel his mouth get dry. His fights with Mike had left him heartbroken, and he refused to get into a fight with Jessi too. He searched for the right words. 

“Honestly, I was kind of a jerk. Mike came by for whatever reason, and I wouldn’t listen to him. He wanted to talk to me about something, and I’m not sure he ever got it out, because I was being a complete jackass.” 

“And have you asked Mike what he wanted to talk to you about, since the fight?” Jessi asked. Jay racked his brain. After a minute or so, he realized he never did. He and Mike had only spoken over text, resulting in a fight, and then again at the party tonight, which was barely a conversation. Since that weird night, Jay hadn’t addressed why Mike needed to talk to him. He felt an embarrassed flush rise in his face, and he hoped the darkness masked it. 

“Uh, no,” he said. 

“I suggest maybe you do that,” Jessi said. Her tone was biting, but not mean. It sounded mostly like she thought Jay was a complete idiot.

“And I hope you’re ready for whatever answer you get,” she added. This stumped Jay, but when Jessi felt she was right about something she tended to speak in riddles. He figured it would make sense later. The ride was quiet, with no traffic, and snow started to fall in silver flakes flashing in the headlights. Jessi looked sleepy, and she tucked her knees up to her chest. Jay smiled at her in the darkness. There are friendships where you cannot say how much you love the other person, because there are no words that express the feeling correctly. Every once in a while, Jay feared that Jessi truly was better than him, and smarter, and that she knew it and felt superior when she was with him, but these moments were brief. Now, in the darkness of the car, filled with the scent of warm car air, with Jessi holding her arms around her knees, he knew she loved him in just the same way he loved her. He never said this to her, because he thought it sounded dumb, but he thought of her as his sister. He pulled up the street to her townhouse, a tiny cute duplex with next-door neighbors who were hoarders. Jessi fiddled with her coat, and put her feet back on the floor of the car. 

“Jesus, I really gotta move to a better place,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Hey, you got a great price on it, and it’s way bigger than my apartment,” Jay said. Jessi stared out the window for a second, then unbuckled her seatbelt and turned towards Jay. She looked thoughtful, then as though she was about to speak, then thoughtful again. 

“Jay,” she said. There was something immensely delicate about her voice, like she was afraid what might happen to Jay if she were to speak. “I think… It’s not my place to say. I don’t know, the way you’ve been around Mike… Look, you’re a nice guy. Do you ever think you get a little, like, uncharacteristically hostile when someone mentions you and Mike, like, being together?” 

Jay looked at her. She looked back at him. He opened his mouth to speak, and gestured with his hands, but couldn’t find any words to say. She eyed him, and gave a much less delicate, much more Jessi-like face of you-so-know-what-I’m-talking-about. She kind of snorted at him, laughing but not in a ha-ha way, and opened the car door.

“Anyway. Thanks for the ride,” she said, and waved. 

“Goodnight,” he said, and she got out of the car and walked to her front door. He waited to make sure she unlocked it and stepped in, and then he pulled out of her tiny gravel driveway and back onto the road. Without her presence, the car felt awkwardly quiet, and the night darker. He drove home in silence, turning the radio off and letting his mind do whatever it needed to do. 

Back home, in bed, lights from the street below flickered on his wall. The night was a quiet one, with no honking or people shouting from the sidewalk. A faint ticking could be heard, possibly from a neighbor’s wall clock. Jay’s cat yawned and shuffled down into a more comfortable position. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up and squinted at it in the dark. There was a text from Josh, thanking him for coming over and being a good sport around Mike. Jay typed out a quick reply, and turned off the screen, but held his phone to his chest instead of putting it back on the bedside table. He sighed, laying flat on his back and looking up at the blank white ceiling. His vision made patterns in the dark. He blinked, watching the green-red colors of nothingness in his eyelids, in the darkness, in the silence. Slowly, as though submerging in water, the realization of his loneliness overwhelmed him. Deeper he sank, as did knowing that he had been lonely for a very long time. Deeper and deeper, understanding that even during his past relationships, either casual or serious, he still kept this loneliness inside him. And he sank. And he wanted to quell the loneliness, to end it, but he wasn’t sure how. Or, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough. There are things in this world that will save us, but acting on them might be scarier than living your life without them. If you are bitten by a snake, you have the choice to suck the poison out of your bleeding wound or jump off a cliff. Jay closed his eyes. He knew he was standing at the edge of the cliff, teetering. At any moment he would have to make up his mind. End it now, or risk the horror of siphoning the poison. He considered that night, driving home from his sister’s house. The spinning out, the complete lack of control as his car slid across the road. In that moment, there had been no choice. The only option was to hold on. Now, lying on his back in his chilly bedroom, tucking the blankets closer around him, he felt again as though he was spinning out on black ice. But this time he had to choose. Now or never.Siphon the poison. 

_ You should come over tomorrow. _

_ We can watch that new Netflix show.  _

He closed his phone and placed it back on his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. His glowing red digital clock next to his bed said 10:13 PM, so there was no way Mike was asleep. It’s possible he had gone out, but not likely. Jay could almost see him, sitting on that couch that Jay had fallen asleep on about a month ago, watching a movie and drinking a beer. Probably eating something from his fridge, a leftover hoagie or maybe peanut M&M’s. Wearing the same plain blue hoodie he had on at Josh’s from earlier, but down to his boxers, sitting with his socked feet propped up on the table. Jay wiped at his eyes, trying to think of something else but not really wanting to. Mike’s vulnerability had always entranced Jay, and he occasionally obsessed over it. His phone buzzed. He felt a cold sweat appear under his arms before he even opened the message. 

_ love to. when? _

Jay looked up at his ceiling and laughed quietly with relief. 

_ maybe 7pm? Bring dinner? _

Those three grey dots appeared immediately. Mike had been waiting for Jay’s response. 

_ oh so you’re bossing me around already _

_ bring Thai A Kitchen? the spring rolls _

For a couple minutes there was no response, and Jay started to worry Mike was actually mad. He put his phone away and tried not to dwell on it. When his phone buzzed, he forced himself to look at it at a normal human pace. The message only contained one thing: an emoji of a Simpsons-yellow middle finger. Jay laughed and closed his eyes, shutting his phone off and curling up on his side. His cat came up to snuggle against him, and he pet her black fur gently, feeling warm at last. 


	5. Memorize His Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an intimacy between Mike and Jay. Things are a little too delicate. Something breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the big wait! I'll get back to posting weekly for the end of this story. Finals kicked my butt but they're over now. Have a wonderful winter holiday season! Happy Hannukka and Yule!

This kind of nervousness belonged in high school, he was too old for this shit. Jay stood vacuuming his carpet, staring off at one blank corner of the room, letting his eyes swim. He still struggled a bit with feeling uncomfortable around strangers, but he had really grown out of nervousness around friends. Why then was he feeling slightly sick to his stomach, and why did his breaths feel short? He checked the clock again. Only minutes had passed since the last time he checked. Mike should knock on his door in five minutes or so, carrying a peace symbol in the form of plastic takeout bags. Jay took a deep breath and unplugged the vacuum, putting it away. He began distracting himself on his phone, searching for the correct 80s horror movie gif to use as a reaction to some dumb Netflix news for Twitter. The sound of the knock on his door made him jump. He threw his phone down on the couch and stood in front of his door, steeling himself. Knowing that just beyond that door was Mike, with his scruffy chin and his hands and some sort of hoodie made Jay hesitate, and freak out a little. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened the door.

For a split second, Mike’s expression was something unreadable and desperate. Then Mike smiled at him like there was an inside joke Jay wasn’t part of, holding up a takeout bag that smelled like salt and oil. 

“Spring rolls,” Mike said with a grin. He followed Jay into Jay’s apartment, and set the bag down on the kitchen counter, untying it. Condensation dripped onto the counter. Jay took the package of spring rolls and his dinner from Mike.

“So what are we watching anyway? Bly Manor?” Mike asked. Jay smiled to himself discreetly, realizing Mike hadn’t known what show Jay was referring to when he invited Mike, and that Mike had wanted to come over anyway. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jay said. He pulled the first episode up on his TV. Mike flopped down on the couch, pulling his dinner into his lap, curling around it for warmth. 

“Jesus, Jay, it’s always cold in here. So is the show good or are we hate-watching it?” Mike said. 

“Dunno, I haven’t watched it yet,” Jay said, unwrapping a spring roll. Mike glanced over at Jay and immediately looked away, as if he didn’t want Jay to know he had looked. Jay sneaked a glance at Mike to decipher what Mike was thinking. Huddled around his lo mein, the steam blew up into Mike’s face. Mike blew on his dinner for a second, sending the steam away from him. The light from the TV glowed on the tip of his nose. He looked just like regular Mike, like they had never fought, like Jay had never hurt him. Then, just as Mike looked down from the TV to his dinner, there was a moment where there was an unmistakable pain in his eyes. Jay snapped his gaze back to the TV, feeling as though he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to. 

As they sat there, occasionally murmuring something about the lighting or the acting, things began to feel completely normal. All that jittery nervousness Jay had before he opened the door vanished, and he was just there, watching a show with Mike like they usually did. Jay smiled to himself, feeling as though finally all this stupid drama was over. They had a little spat, but that’ve done that a couple times over their friendship, and now things were totally regular again. He popped open the plastic lid to his dinner. 

“You want a beer?” Jay asked. He paused the show. 

“Uhh, yeah, what do you have?” Mike turned and look at the fridge as Jay made his way over, clinking around bottles and reading the labels. 

“Let’s see, uh, Barbarian Haze, Battle Priest, those are the 3Floyds ones, and I got some trash PBRs in the back.”

“What’s Battle Priest? Is that one new?”

Jay fidgeted with some tupperwares of leftover rice and chicken, rearranging them. “Yeah, I think it’s new. It’s like, a little fruity? It’s an IPA.”

“Yeah I’ll try that,” Mike said. Jay pulled out the beers and shuffled back, handing Mike the bottle opener. Mike flipped open his bottle and handed the bottle opener to Jay. The both took a sip. Mike considered, looking up to the ceiling. He nodded, looking down at the beer.

“It’s good,” he said, reading the label more carefully. Jay turned the show back on. He was really interested in watching it, and he usually hated being distracted while he focused on watching something. Truthfully, Mike was the only one Jay could stand to eat with while watching something. Mike knew that Jay hated hearing people chew, but never mentioned that this didn’t apply to him. Jay had always appreciated that silent, we-don’t-need-to-say-it attitude with Mike. Of course, Mike was notorious for bringing up embarrassing or annoying things just to tease a friend, but there were a couple things he never said, and it made Jay feel as though there was an unspoken trust between them. Jay looked over at Mike in the blue light, in the dark room. Mike was lifting the beer to his lips, eyes focused on the screen. He took a small sip. His hand paused, the beer hovering in front of his face, and he turned his eyes towards Jay. In that split moment, Jay feared Mike was going to smirk at him or do something annoying to break this moment, but instead Mike held his gaze for a second, kindly, softly, and looked back at the TV. Jay watched him take another sip, then he turned his own eyes back to the TV. At this point, he had missed enough details of the show that he was resigned to watch it over again after Mike leaves. Jay took a deep breath, settling into his seat. He felt content and warm; some heat must have been emanating from Mike. There was a scent in the air—not new, but he hadn’t noticed it before. Jay breathed in again, sliding down in his seat a little, tucking his legs up onto the couch. There was that presence in the air. It was like the scent of laundry detergent, supposedly Mike’s, but it was a feeling, too. Something clean and warm smoothed over Jay’s mind. He felt as though he could fall asleep, and also like he never would again. 

The truth was, there was something in Mike’s face that made Jay feel at home. He allowed himself to look over at Mike. There was the stubble, always present, even if Mike had just shaved. There was the eyes, always flashing between intensely serious and completely sarcastic. Mike’s hoodie, blue and casual, was rumpled but clean. Jay remembered many times where Mike had forced him to wear that exact hoodie, because he insisted Jay wasn’t wearing appropriate layers for the weather, or that Jay wore too much black and needed some color, or some other ridiculous reason. Jay remembered that every time Mike had insisted on him wearing it, Jay would seem to breathe deeper than before. There was Mike’s hand, always fidgeting, holding the beer bottle. Jay glanced down at his own hand, holding his own beer. It always amazing him how different their hands were. Typically Jay was revolted at the complexities of the human body. The sickness, the aging, the ugliness. But analyzing exactly how Mike’s hand measured to the label of the beer, and then measuring exactly how his own hand measured was important, necessary. It was a game he played by himself to avoid feeling that entrenching sadness that filled him when he sat in silence next to Mike. Jay looked back up at Mike’s face, and caught him smiling at some moment in the show. At this point Jay didn’t care that he was missing everything. There was that little gap between Mike’s teeth, on the side, between the second and third tooth. This seemed immeasurably more important than whatever bullshit Netflix had thought up. 

In a flooding moment, as though cold water had crashed over him, Jay realized he couldn’t just move forward like this, in this way his friends usually did. He couldn’t just ignore the fact that he had hurt Mike and move on like things were normal. He wanted to know Mike was okay. He hesitated, turning the words over in his head. 

“Mike, uh,” he avoided his gaze when Mike turned towards him to listen. “I’m just making sure you’re good. Are you, uh… okay?” Jay squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then opened them and made himself look at Mike. Mike blinked at him.

“Uh, yeah,” Mike narrowed his eyes a little, thinking. “What do you mean?”

The delicacy, the quietness of Mike’s voice in the silent room made Jay’s skin feel sharp. The TV was playing a quiet scene. Jay considered if Mike had turned the volume down and he hadn’t noticed. Mike stretched his arm out on the back of the couch and leaned towards Jay, looking for a response. Jay’s hands felt clammy. He felt cold sweat on his back. Mike was breathing out from his nose in quiet breaths, looking closely at Jay. Jay’s throat tightened as Mike’s eyes moved around, scanning Jay’s sweatshirt, his hair, his ears. Jay looked back at Mike, and it felt as though it had been a long time since he had really looked at Mike like this. It was like they were memorizing each other. The tension grew intensely, Jay felt there was no where to go and even if there was, he wasn’t sure he’d go. When Mike lifted his hand, Jay knew he was going to touch him. And Mike placed his hand on Jay’s knee, who had settled with folded legs facing him. And Jay was surprised at how gentle Mike’s hand was, as he had always imagined it to be a heavy touch. He closed his eyes, thinking about how that thought had occurred, because he was pretty sure he had never imagined Mike touching him. When he opened his eyes and felt the heat emanating from Mike’s hand, he thought that maybe he _had_ thought about this before. Mike’s touch on his knee moved to a gentle grip; his fingers closed around Jay’s worn out sweatpants. Suddenly Jay realized what was happening. Of course, Jay had had relationships with other people before, and was like any adult who could recognize when something intimate was happening. But with Mike it felt so sudden, although he knew the tension had been building for some time. Things couldn’t feel the way they did out of nowhere. He felt like a teenager, completely caught off guard. But at least now he knew. He met Mike’s eyes. It was like Mike was desperate, trying to tell him something. Jay nodded imperceptibly. He steeled himself, knowing this was what he needed to do. 

“If you’re gonna do it, you better do it right,” Jay said. He could feel his heart swell. It was painful. Mike looked so serious it was hard to look at. He leaned forward closer to Jay, and turned his face away. There was something delicate and nervous in Mike’s face Jay had never seen before. Mike shook his head a little, as in disbelief. 

“I think I feel- I guess I feel kinda high,” Mike said. His voice was so quiet, and a little broken. There was something incomprehensible in his eyes. Jay felt suddenly like he wanted to lay down and die. He needed to know what Mike would do. He needed to know how far Mike would take this, but he knew that finding out might kill him. He tensed his back, preparing. Anything soft in Jay had turned cold and hard. He narrowed his eyes, daring Mike to do something. Mike leaned in, hesitating, then closed his eyes and inhaled. He pressed his lips against Jay’s slowly, and Jay could feel the stubble and Mike’s nose and the softness of his mouth. A crash of betrayal washed over Jay. His head reeled. How could Mike risk their friendship like this? It didn’t matter what he felt, this was an overstep of bounds. His heart swelled painfully. He felt his heart go two different directions. Mike kissed him again, adjusting into it, breathing in against Jay’s cheek. Jay sat stock still, feeling Mike’s hand rest behind his head, brushing through his hair lightly. Then Jay pressed in, kissing Mike back. Mike leaned backwards slightly, his hand on Jay’s head. Jay pushed Mike’s hand away and sat back. His face was hot and he assumed it was from anger. Mike blinked at him, looking a little scared. There must have been a look in Jay’s face. Jay almost laughed. Or, maybe it was a sob, but he would prefer to think of it as something different.

“What, did you think I’d let you stay the night?” Jay regretted the words before they left him but there was nothing strong enough to stop this inherent, biological need to protect himself. He refused to let himself get hurt. He needed to refuse this. Mike leaned back, looking afraid. Then he sat upright, looking down at Jay. His face was hard and air blew out of his mouth, a furious exhale. 

“What?” Mike asked. There was a tinge of desperation in his voice that made Jay want to cry. 

“Look, I never meant to lead you on,” Jay said, feeling the words tumble out of his mouth. He needed to do or say anything to make this moment pass more quickly. Mike looked around the room as if for an escape. 

“What?” Mike’s voice was lower, quieter, angrier. Jay lifted his hands, first stand-offish, quickly melting into a gesture of giving up. He found that his hands were covering his face. He rubbed at his eyes, hoping to ward off the tears until after Mike had left. He felt one more hurtful sentence turning in his mouth, and before he could consider saying it, it was already out.

“You were always like a brother to me anyway.” Jay looked up at Mike, knowing there was no fixing what he had said. Mike seemed to be processing the words. Jay’s stomach dropped when he saw a tear fall from Mike’s face freely. He had never seen Mike cry before. At this point, Mike didn’t seem to care. Another tear dropped, heavy and hot. Mike didn’t wipe the shine from his cheek. Instead he stood up, staring at Jay. Jay tried to think of something kinder, something gentler to say, but his mind was blank. All he was capable of doing was watching Mike back away like a wounded animal and walk out the door, closing it with a slam. 

The sound echoed in Jay’s ears. He sat, numb, in the same spot for quite while, hugging a cushion from the couch to his chest, letting himself cry with heaving breaths. It had been a long time since he cried. His cat came to him after some time, and purred against his leg. Nothing consoled the hollowness in his chest that felt like it could go on forever. He cried, and blinked swollen eyes.


	6. However

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay meets a stranger in a bar who might be omnipotent. The stranger is essentially Sufjan Stevens. Has this become a RLM/Sufjan crossover? You do the math.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is late, sorry! Hopefully the final chapter will be on time. Happy Holidays!

Calling off of work was one of the good choices Jay made that week. There really was no other option. Laying in bed while the sun cast shadows on his wall was his first attempt at consoling himself. When this proved to mostly make him antsy and empty-feeling, he shuffled around his bedroom, hating the loose change piling up on his dresser, the unwashed sheets, the sweatpants and boxers laying scattered on the carpet. He had turned his phone completely off, but still jumped when he thought he heard a buzz. The fridge was practically empty, the beer gone, the greasy leftovers that Mike had brought were pooling in the back corner under the vegetable drawer. The sticky plastic bag holding one half of a spring roll and a styrofoam container with a couple forkfuls of fried rice made him feel sickly, their presence was unwanted. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it out because he couldn’t bring himself to touch it. The oily film that had gathered on the plastic felt too real, that touching it would make what happened concrete. 

Of course the words and touches and feelings were gathering in his head. How Mike had touched his knee so gently, and with such kindness. How Mike’s eyes had softened, a look that had never been directed towards Jay. The sound of breath through Mike’s nose and the soft worn-out sweatshirt. When Jay thought of the way Mike kissed him so gently and so carefully, it felt as though it hadn’t happened, that it was just a vividly imagined idea. Jay wished he could convince himself that it really hadn’t happened, and that he could move on with his life knowing only that Mike wanted to, that Mike could have, but that Mike didn’t. The clear, clean memory of Mike kissing him stung. It was an immense betrayal of their friendship, and of something else. It was like Mike had also betrayed Jay’s intimacy, his private feelings, his personal information. It felt like Mike had stood up at a Bauman family gathering and said, “Jay’s lonely! Jay’s sad! Jay’s unsatisfied!” As Jay turned these thoughts over in his mind, something washed clear. It hurt so much because Mike knew Jay would have let him do it, that Jay wanted to be kissed. The fact that Mike knew Jay would want this and never said anything, or maybe that he acted on it, or some part of this was bruising Jay’s heart. He wasn’t quite sure. It was a tumbling feeling, and he wished there was something to reach out for to slow him down.

At this point, the best thing to reach out for was beer. Jay stood in his kitchen, staring into his fridge. Half a stick of butter rested on the shelf next to a bottle of Sriracha. The dreaded take out bag sat below. Half a bag of spinach sat in one of the bottom drawers. _Why are spinach bags so fucking big_ , Jay thought. _You can never use the whole thing before it goes bad._ He sniffed, staring loosely at the fluorescent light of the fridge. There was no beer here. He could run down to the Fine Wine, but the cashier who was always there, the young acne-ridden guy with the bowl cut, was always very talkative. Jay kind of hated him. The grocery store around the corner had some wine and beer, but at this time of night the manager would give the evil eye to any schlub like Jay buying alcohol. He really didn’t feel like driving anywhere further. The only other option was the little quaint bar a couple streets away. Jay didn’t usually go to this bar, he didn’t have a reason why, he just always ended up at the big popular bar where he and Josh usually hung out. Jay shrugged and closed the door of the fridge. The little bar around the corner would have to do. 

Brightly colored lights shone from people’s windows on the very cold walk in the very dark night. Jay tugged his jacket sleeves further down over his hands, blowing visible breaths towards the windows showing Christmas trees and stockings, some leftover menorahs, a father tucking himself into a dining table to share a meatloaf with his children. A car honked from the street. Jay stood in front of the bar, which had an old-timey sign swinging over the door with a picture of an owl and a small red bird. He pushed the door open and grimaced when he noticed a football game playing on the small TV in the corner. He realized he probably didn’t come to this bar often because it attracts football fans. But as he scanned the small groups of the people in the bar, it didn’t seem to be a sports bar. One guy sitting in a dark corner by the counter wore a trucking hat and a hoodie with an American flag on it, but he seemed the be the most dude-bro sort of guy here. Something caught Jay’s eye about the big guy who was standing next to the man in the trucking hat. The big man shifted and his salt and pepper hair caught in the light. It was Mike. Jay stepped back towards the wall. Mike and the stranger were talking, and Mike was laughing. He had that bright twinkle in his eye that he got when he genuinely thought something was funny. The stranger smiled and put his hand on Mike’s arm. Something burned inside Jay, a powerful thing that melted away the cold he had felt for so long. He face flashed hot with anger. He turned his eyes away from Mike and the stranger, not wanting to see Mike enjoying this man’s smile. Jay steadied himself with a beer and sat at a booth by himself, slinging his jacket on the seat across from him so that no one else would sit down. He wanted to stare coldly out the window and ignore Mike’s presence, but Mike’s heat always filled a room. Jay found himself turning back and back to Mike and the stranger, a fire growing under his skin. The stranger was tall, though not as tall as Mike, and attractive, with stubble and dark hair, strong arms, and wearing some sort of steel-toe boot. Jay scoffed at him under his breath, hating this man for being so masculine and all-American. 

Although he hated real "man's man" type guys, Jay had always kind of admired Mike’s masculineness, his deep voice and his rough skin. It sort of made Jay feel inadequate, even though he liked how he looked. He had grown up quite a bit in the past couple years, and he could see it when he looked in the mirror. Jay knew he would never be a soldier-shaped guy in a trucking hat, watching football, flirting with another big, masculine guy. He was pretty much okay with that fact, but now, looking over at Mike talking to this stranger, he felt fourteen again. He felt small and useless and unloveable. He turned away and sipped from his beer, trying not to stoke the fire. He felt hurt, though he knew he had no right to feel that way. Snow started to fall outside the window in tiny dry flakes. 

Mike had never felt like a brother to Jay. That was a complete lie, when he said that the other night. It was true that Jay hadn’t meant to lead Mike on, but only for the first half of their friendship. Jay sank into his seat, realizing he had been leaving a trail of his heart for Mike for quite a while. It was the type of realization that only feels shocking for a moment, then settles down in your soul like you knew it the whole time. He had dared Mike to kiss him, not because he wanted Mike to ruin their friendship, but because Jay was starved for love, and he knew Mike would give it to him. Although, it was very likely they had ended their friendship for good. Jay felt as though this was still partly Mike’s doing, but he gripped his empty beer, nodding into the fact that he had let himself do this to Mike. He felt betrayed, but he knew Mike did too. At this point, however, Jay didn’t feel betrayed that Mike had kissed him. He felt betrayed that Mike had not known him enough to stay. In all the times that Mike poked at and made fun of their friends, and of Jay, Mike always pushed it over the edge. He always overstayed his welcome when he teased his friends, always had to have the last laugh even when he was told to stop. But Jay knew Mike held him gently in his heart, and maybe too gently. If Mike had pushed through, just like he does with a bad joke, Jay would have let him. One more push was all Jay had needed that night. But Mike had been too gentle, and Jay too rough. 

A quiet rustle shook Jay out of his head. The stranger in the American flag hoodie had sat down next to him. A flash of anger heated Jay’s face. He had clearly put his jacket down on the opposite side of the booth so that no one would sit with him, and anyway, who sits in the same side of a booth with a stranger? Jay looked up into the stranger’s face to tell him off, but something caught his breath. There was something so gentle and soft in the stranger’s face, like he was capable of extinguishing anything. Jay looked at him with an open mouth, trying to stay angry, but falling short. The stranger smiled at Jay, his green-blue eyes soft. He adjusted his hat and he looked just like an actor in an advertisement for Levi’s or John Deere equipment. Jay lowered his shoulders, accepting that he was not going to be as angry at this man as he would like to be. He scanned the bar, trying to find where Mike had gone. 

“I think I saw you looking at that guy I was talking to.” The stranger’s voice was quiet and young-sounding, not the deep, buff sound Jay had been expecting. Jay lifted his hands in an expression of _whatever_.

“Go right ahead man, I’m not stopping you,” Jay said, feeling a little bitter and lonely. The stranger made eye contact with Jay, immediately and clearly expressing that he had not been asking if Jay was interested in Mike. Jay felt a little embarrassed for assuming the stranger was asking about him and Mike. He twirled his beer bottle in his hands, wishing it was full. 

“Well, I don’t want to butt in. But you guys clearly have something going on,” the stranger said. He paused. “I hope someone looks at me the way he looked at you. The way you looked at him.” Jay stared at the stranger, who looked contentedly off into the distance. There was something immense about the energy around the man. It was like Jay was talking to God. 

“Where did he go?” Jay asked, peering around the bar again for Mike. 

“He left a while ago.” 

Jay stood up, bumping against the table, and sat back down. He knew there was no point in going to look for Mike now. He was probably on his way home, or already there. Jay rested his forehead over his arms, on the table. 

“I really hurt him. And I did it on purpose,” Jay said. He released a sigh against the table. He knew he had scarred his relationship, and the thought terrified him. 

“Why did you do it?” the man asked. His tone was not judgmental. He sat with his hands folded together on his lap. 

“I- I think I’m afraid of loosing him.” Although Jay knew this to be true, this verbal confession hit his ears hard. He felt as though he had missed the first step on a flight of stairs. The bar spun around him. There was a moment of silence, thick with unspoken words. When the stranger spoke, his voice was quieter, clearer, and almost musical. 

“He’s afraid of the same thing.”

Jay felt something rise in his throat like vomit, and when it came out, it was a sob. He cradled himself against the dirty table, crying with very few tears and a painful tightness in his throat. It was the kind of primordial weeping an infant soon forgets. The sadness in Jay had unlocked an ancient feeling, something lost and untranslatable. The stranger laid a warm hand on the back of Jay’s head and on his neck. 

* * *

The night was darker and colder than it had been before. Wind howled down the street, pushing empty metal garbage cans clattering around the pavement with the clanging sounds of ghosts. The lights from the windows had all been extinguished and the Christmas trees stood dark, not visible through the glass. Jay walked slowly and did not pause to look at the half-empty Coke can spilling out like blood onto the sidewalk. 

Jay’s previous fights with Mike, the fights that seemed microscopic now in comparison, were always petty spats about some girl they both liked, or Jay accusing Mike of being controlling, or them both just getting tired and sick of each other. In most cases, Jay would back off eventually after he cooled down and realized he had let himself get heated because of some dumb insecurity or selfishness. He never admitted it to Mike, but sometimes, when Jay stared too long at his ceiling at night, he worried he was just a generally unkind and selfish person deep down. His sister had accused him several times of being self-centered, but it can be hard to really listen to something like that coming from a sibling. Mike never said anything like that, but Jay began to wonder if Mike knew it all along. Jay always had to be in control, because he felt so out of control. When he and Mike worked together at the VCR repair shop, Jay would never let Mike handle the tax forms or the work schedule or even lock up at night. Jay knew he had trouble controlling his behavior when he got upset, so he tried to control every other part of his life. This past year he had felt so happy with himself, he had been eating really well and working out, his apartment was clean and tidy. But now, on the pitch dark Milwaukee street, he grew worried that all this was just overcompensation for being a shitty person. 

Of course Jay knew he had treated Mike horribly. He felt so ashamed, like he wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and never come out. It was a terrible realization to come to. He had treated Mike horribly because he was afraid and weak, and there was no way to apologize for it. Although Mike could be infuriating, he was also soft and kind in ways that surprised Jay. It must be over a month ago now, almost two months, when Jay had laid down on Mike’s couch, dizzy and nauseous. Jay closed his eyes to the wind, which was starting blow stronger. Somewhere far away from this was that stumbling night after Rich’s party, where Mike and Jay had laughed all the way up the stairs and fell, exhausted, into Mike’s apartment. Where Mike had smoothed a blanket down over Jay, making sure he felt comfortable and warm. Where Jay had felt so safe and comforted, even though the way Mike’s eyes met his burned holes right through his skull. Jay felt the wind whip through his hair one final gust as he opened his front door and stepped into ringing silence. 

Jay’s apartment was pitch black. A tinkling sound let him know his cat was nearby, likely walking up to greet him. He did not flick on the light switch; he leaned against his door and breathed in the darkness. Jay nodded, once, to himself. 

Jay did love Mike. It was unclear when it had become concrete, but in this moment there was no doubt. A full, red love bloomed in his heart and he stood with his head against his door, with his pulse pounding, his fingers burning in the heat of the apartment. Jay sighed and sank down to the floor. He did love Mike. At this point there weren’t many options for what to do.


End file.
